Chapter 17 Luna
Luna
Notebook: When dealing with an unpredictable alpha, don’t underestimate the power of a soft side. It’s dangerously addictive.
Ishovel the scrambled eggs into my mouth, the warm, buttery bites disappearing quickly, when Axel lets out an exasperated sigh, his gaze fixed on me with a mix of impatience and excitement.
I raise an eyebrow, swallowing hard. “What? I’m eating as fast as I can.”
He radiates a nervous energy, like a kid about to unveil a secret passage to a candy wonderland—or, in his case, an axe-murder museum.
As I finish the last bite, he grabs my hand, pulling me toward the back door.
I huff playfully, slipping on a jacket and my sneakers, and follow him across the yard, the morning dew soaking into my shoes.
Where are we going?
The woods?
He stops abruptly at a weathered shed, its gray boards warped and splintered with age.
He pulls a key from his pocket.
“What’s in there?” I ask.
Knowing Axel, it could be anything.
Probably a torture chamber.
“You’ll see.” He slides the key into the lock, and the door creaks open. “Today, Wildcat, you learn to shoot,” he says gruffly, not even glancing my way.
I raise an eyebrow. “And this rickety old shed is going to teach me how?”
The corner of his mouth twitches, a ghost of a smirk. “After you,” he says with mock chivalry as he reaches and flicks on a light.
As my eyes adjust, I gasp. The space is crammed with sharp tools and blades hanging on the walls—knives, saws, cleavers, and even a few swords gleaming ominously. One wall is dedicated entirely to axes, of course. The only wall not covered in deadly implements boasts shelves lined with guns.
In the center is a workbench scattered with bits of metal and wood. And in the corner…Is that a bed?
“Cozy,” I remark, trying to mask the unease creeping up my spine.
“Welcome to my happy place,” Axel says, sweeping his arm grandiosely. “Where I come to play with my toys.”
I shoot him a look. “Quite the collection. Planning to arm a small militia?”
“Nah. This is just for fun.”
He catches my gaze, lingering on the bed. “I sleep out here sometimes. When the nightmares come.” His voice drops, uncharacteristically soft, revealing a vulnerability that tugs at my heart.
I swallow hard.
The tough guy has nightmares and sleeps surrounded by weapons. Something twists in my chest.
“When I wake up thinking I’m still in the fighting pits, still more animal than man, this is where I come to regain control.” His ice-blue eyes meet mine, raw and haunted. In that moment, I glimpse the broken male beneath the violent exterior.
Instinctively, I reach out, wanting to offer comfort. He takes my hand, squeezing it gently.
“I get it,” I manage, because I do. I know what it’s like to feel shattered and unsafe in your own mind.
“Were you forced to fight in the pits?”
Axel shakes his head. “No. I had to expel the demon in me, or I would have killed everyone. I was more animal than man in those days. When I couldn’t avenge her death, I needed an outlet.”
“Avenge her death?” I ask, confusion knitting my brow.
“Emely,” he says softly, his voice tightening. “My first love. Damien’s younger sister was brutally murdered when we were still teenagers.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Axel shakes it off, brushing away the weight of the past.
“Alright then,” he says curtly, and the flicker of vulnerability vanishes as though it never happened. “Enough of the touchy-feely shit. Let’s go have some fun.”
He grabs a pistol off the wall and strides out of the shed, leaving me to trail after him, an equal mix of wary and intrigued by the enigma that is Axel.
We trek out to a clearing behind the shed. Axel sets up a makeshift firing range, propping old cans and bottles on tree stumps.
“Watch closely,” he orders. “And try to keep your tongue in your mouth while you drool over my skills.”
I snort. “Someone’s cocky.”
“Wildcat, you have no idea.” He winks, then shifts into instructor mode. “Feet apart, dominant side facing the target. Support your shooting hand with the other.”
As he demonstrates the stance, muscles rippling beneath his shirt, the heat in my cheeks has nothing to do with the sun that is starting to creep overhead.
Damn, the male is pure walking sex. And he knows it.
Axel fires off a series of shots in rapid succession. Each one finds its mark, targets exploding. It’s impressive as hell, and he damn well knows that too.
“Your turn, Wildcat. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
My wolf presses forward at his command, thrilled to obey him. Determined not to make a total fool of myself, I try to mimic his stance, but it feels awkward. My arms wobble as I lift the gun. The metal is cold and heavy in my grip.
Axel tuts and moves behind me. “Like this.” His hands settle on my hips, adjusting my position. I clamp down a shiver at the heat of his touch.
He widens my stance, pressing into my back as he loops an arm around me to correct my grip. I’m acutely aware of every hard inch of him against me.
“Focus,” he purrs in my ear. His breath tickles my neck.
I grit my teeth. I try to concentrate on the target, not how my body responds to his proximity.
I squeeze the trigger.
BANG! The shot goes wide, missing by a mile. I grit my teeth.
“Again,” Axel commands. “Squeeze the trigger, don’t jerk it.”
I empty the clip, but my aim is all over the place. Frustration claws at me.
I hate being bad at things.
“Pathetic,” Axel smirks. “At this rate, you couldn’t hit the broad side of a—”
Baring my teeth, I whirl on him. “If you think you’re so amazing, why don’t YOU teach me instead of just standing there being a smug asshole?”
Something flashes in his eyes. Then he stalks toward me.
“Alright, brat. You asked for it.”
He steps up behind me, molding his body to mine. One hand covers my grip on the gun, and the other lands on my hip, scorching me through my clothes.
“Relax,” he murmurs, breath hot on my neck. “Deep breath in, let it out slowly. Now focus. Aim. And squeeze…”
BANG!
The can goes flying, and so does my heart, pounding wildly against my ribs. I’m on fire everywhere he touches me, barely breathing.
This is exhilarating.
Axel lowers the gun slowly, but he doesn’t let me go. If anything, he pulls me tighter against him until I can feel every rigid inch of his body.
His nose skims up the side of my throat. “Mmm, look at you,” he purrs. “A gun in your hand and smelling fucking delicious, the way you feel in my arms. Makes me want to fuck you senseless.”
“And what if I want that?” I rasp. Arousal floods me, molten and hungry. I know I should not say that. I should pull away. But I can’t seem to make myself move.
He growls, “Don’t fucking tempt me, Wildcat. We can’t. Not unsupervised.” His voice lowers to a growl.
I suck in a sharp breath as his hands slide under my shirt. “W-what do you mean?”
“I can be a little… intense,” he says, “especially when fucking. You might not survive it when I do.”
Is he teasing me or being honest?
I know he’s dangerous, wild, barely leashed, and a primal part of me craves all of it.
“I’m tougher than I look,” I manage, my voice breathy.
Axel’s hands tighten on my hips, pulling me back against the hard ridge of his arousal. “Fuck, the things I want to do to you…”
He spins me around, slamming my back against a tree. His mouth crashes down on mine in a brutal kiss, more teeth than tongue. I gasp, and he takes advantage, thrusting his tongue inside to plunder my mouth.
I’m drowning in sensation, in the heat and hardness of him. My hands fist in his shirt, anchoring myself as he ravages me.
Just as abruptly, he rips his mouth away. We’re both panting. His eyes blaze into mine, wild and feral.
“Soon,” he promises. Then he steps back, leaving me reeling. “That’s enough for today. We should head back before they come looking.”
I nod mutely, not trusting my voice. My legs feel like jelly as I push off the trunk. Axel’s already striding ahead, waiting for me to catch up. I take a deep breath and stumble after him.
As we near the house from the back, I spot Damien by the basement doors, overseeing a few men loading what looks like guns out of crates.
Shit. Did he see us?
And why so many guns?
Guess our little training session wasn’t so private after all.
I brace myself for a confrontation, but Damien just sneers and stalks inside, slamming the door behind him.
Axel chuckles. “Looks like someone’s jealous. Can’t say I blame him. If I had to watch you like this and not touch? I’d lose my fucking mind.”
I elbow him in the ribs. “Shut up. It’s not like that. Damien hates me.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Wildcat. Damien wants you the same as the rest of us. He’s just too fucking stubborn to admit it.”
No way.
He’s made it abundantly clear that he barely tolerates my presence.
But I can’t deny the tension between us, the way his gaze scorches me when he thinks I’m not looking. The bathroom incident flashes through my mind, and I feel my cheeks heat further.
Axel’s gaze cuts to the crates Damien’s men are hauling, and a feral grin spreads across his face. “Well, well. Looks like we got some new toys.”
He jogs toward the group, calling over his shoulder, “Wanna come see, Wildcat?”
I shake my head.
“Hey,” I call out to him. “What’s up with the guns?”
He shoots me a sly grin. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me with nothing but questions and my tangled thoughts.